


Fleshdroids

by Paragosm



Series: Nuhoyir - Aay'han Afterlife Spin-offs [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aay'han spin-off, Afterlife fic, Canonical Character Death, Copious swearing from Fives, Empty Shell, Headcannnoonnnsss, M/M, Mild Angst, Non-Binary Vaughn, Order 66
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paragosm/pseuds/Paragosm
Summary: Fives has a horrible no good terrible day in the afterlife.
Relationships: (also ambigious so), (background), Boil/Waxer (Star Wars)
Series: Nuhoyir - Aay'han Afterlife Spin-offs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803157
Kudos: 15
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Fleshdroids

Fives was done with this rancorosik. He was shabla done with this karking osik and he wanted to go kriff off for a shabla nap, but no, not even in the afterlife could he rest for a haar’chak minute,  _ apparently _ . 

Force haar’chak it all. He just wanted five,  _ ha _ , minutes to calm down, but no! No, he was dealing with  _ this  _ osik. Right. He looked up at the group of vod aimlessly milling around, choking by the Force, stabbed and slashed with lightsabers, and all else. 

He had to physically hold Boil back when he tried to run towards Waxer, body crushed from a fall, he had to listen to him sob about his ner’vod, please, Fives, let me go to him- 

They’re droids. They move robotically. Their eyes have the hollow, dead look he remembers in Tup’s. Tup came up and immediately buried his face into Fives’ chest, crying, recounting his tales of being a mindless drone, an empty shell, how he’d fought it so hard to no avail. 

Well wasn’t this just the best start to the day he’d had in awhile. They figured out that after a few minutes, their dronelike empty shells wore off, but Force, the  _ sounds _ of pain and loss were so much worse when they were pouring in by the thousands.. 

The day, or whatever constituted as day in this current haranhole of an afterlife just dragged on. He was getting real hopeful when he didn’t see any of the surviving 501st crash in yet, but the ones who were already here were waiting. 

Vaughn especially, poor vod’ika, the thing was a nervous wreck as they hopped foot from foot, hands undoing and redoing the loose low bun their hair was in over and over. Hardcase, Chains, and Clocks all stood side by side, whispering, glancing over and trying to restrain themselves every time they saw a vod with a republic cog on their body. 

Fives remembered when the thunderclap seemed to happen, the storm started, and the 501st and the 332nd started pouring in. He couldn’t hold Vaughn back ,and they charged into the fray, grabbing onto the shoulders of their men, their  _ vode _ , to no avail at all. They made their way back dejectedly, before the screams started, when they did they flinched hard and ran off, panic pulsing in their ears. 

Fives was done with this bullshit and wanted this very long, horrible, no good, terrible day to just be  _ over _ so he could nap. And maybe eat. And, as he spotted a 501st shiny with his head twisted so far around he could probably touch his back with his nose, maybe drink. A lot. Actually, definitely drinking. So much drinking. Popper better have that nastyshebs engine oil osik on standby. 

He went over to Vaughn, who was shaking as they hugged their form. “Hey, vod’ika, Vau’ika, what’s wrong?” They met his eyes, their slight mutation showing, one eye more of the soft honey gold then the warm amber brown of the other. “I...my men...I..I c-couldn’t save my men, Fives, and now...they’re...they are ut’reeyah..empty..in pain..” Fives hugged them to him. “When did you learn that bit of mando’a?” 

Vaughn smiled a little, and pushed their face into his neck. “One of the commandos said it about the first arrivals, I asked him what it meant, and he answered.” “I see. Who was it?” “Vhipir.” “Oh, him, yeah, he’s one of the better then they could be ones.” 

Vaughn rolled their eyes, and pressed themselves closer when cries of pain from their unit echoed out. “I...I still failed them…” Fives gently nuzzled them. “No, you didn’t.” One of the members of the unit wandered by, an empty shell, eyes vacant, mumbling to himself  _ good soldiers follow orders, good soldiers follow orders _ over and over. 

Vaughn got up and put their hand in front of his face, waving it gently, the concerned vod wanting nothing but the best for the ones they’d sworn to lead and protect, in life, and now death. “Moth, Moth, c’mon, vod, c’mon, come back..” Vaughn whispered to themself. The male in question had delicate insectoid patterned tattoos over every inch of bare skin, and he had some shattered armor, but largely it seemed the huge concussion he surely had from that skull trauma was the most of the damage. 

Moth didn’t respond except to, for half a second, try and snap out of it, for a brief second a flash of recognition on his face. Vaughn gave up when the mumbled rantings of  _ good soldiers follow orders  _ began again. Fives placed a gentle hand on their shoulder and pressed his forehead to theirs. 

“Calm down, Vau’ika. They’ll come around eventually, we’ve already seen it. For now, why don’t you come eat something?” He offers, and look, sue his karking shebs if he wants a bite to eat, and therefore has an ulterior motive. It was still helping Vaughn, who runs a hand over their scruffy beard and nods. Good. Finally, Fives thought, I can get some good kriffing food. 

They walk with him back to the home that Domino Squad’s marched away members kept. Cutup poked his head out from the kitchen, and smiled softly. “Hey, Vau’ika, ner’vod, do you need something?” Fives nods, and makes anooba pup eyes at him. “Food?” Cutup snorts, and hands him two bowls of a thick, hearty stew and rolls of bread. “Of course, Fiv’ika, here you go.”    
  
Vaughn pokes at it after sitting down. “What’s this made out of?” “With Cutup, it’s best not to ask. He knows how to cook, he just has unusual ingredients.” Fives says, already eating quickly. Vaughn raises their eyebrow. “Uh, ok then.” Fives nods sagely. “Eat up.” He eyes the pattern that had been shaved into their facial hair at some point, the rest of it having grown out more during their time in the afterlife. 

“Want to help me get your flames back?” He knew the significance of the flames, just like he knew what the three notches on Vaughn’s gauntlets and the neck of the upper body armor meant, the pronouns that should be used. 

Vaughn looks up. “Uh, sure?” They were eating just as quickly as him, and he smiles at them. “Like the food?” “This is the first nonration thing besides some spicy as all haran thing some mandalorian fighters gave me.” They look away. “My mouth, throat, and nose burned and they just laughed at me choking, said something about how I couldn’t even handle a little heturam, spice, whatever.” 

Fives makes a fist, lips pulling back in a slight snarl, and hugs Vaughn over the table. “Force, I’m sorry that happened, vod’ika.” Vaughn was hesitant, but hugged back. “It’s fine, they didn’t know about rations and such.” Fives shook his head. “It’s not fine, but go on, enjoy your mystery meat stew.”    
  
As the hours passed, the brothers' screeches became louder and louder, until those initial waves trickled down.    
  
Now, there were few empty shells.    
  
But there were way, way too many pained,confused brothers.    
  
Motherkarking sithspit and fuck this shit, Fives thought, took a shot of whisky, and went to work. 


End file.
